The Most Important Migrants

Flattery never lasts long. You get a little boost to your confidence when you receive it, and you get a little warmth from another when you give it. But that's all, it's as fleeting as the Scottish summer. Showing someone a good time, however, can kickstart a cordial relationship.

The Greeks proved this dramatically with the Emperor Nero. He was treated like a God. No pleasure was withheld, no vice raised an eyebrow, even the Olympics were delayed so that Nero could compete in them. He won every event — including a chariot race after falling out of the chariot — and fell so in love with his hosts that he freed Greece from its tax obligations. A massive geopolitical win.

Rarely, in history, does power rest so utterly in one person as it did in Nero. Normally, power is dispersed among thousands of petty kings, princes, merchants, generals, priests, and so on. Great statesmen had long learned that diplomacy was largely a case of inviting them to a damned good party. Perhaps the world's largest architectural evidence of this are the Imperial-era stately homes that fill England. They are far too grand for any family to really live in — there are normally residential apartments within them — because their primary purpose was hosting. Great banquets and balls would bind the elite in revelry, deals would be made over strong drink and dancing, wars might even be ended. Across the Empire, the same method was used to charm local leaders into alliances, the world brought to heel as much through champagne as the sword.

At some point, politicians thought the diplomacy of these never-ending soirées could be replaced by state visits between leaders. It can't. Tony Blair's much-vaulted friendship with Gerhard Schröder lasted as long as it took for the latter to lose his seat. The same can be said for Volodymyr Zelenskyy's bonhomie with Boris Johnson. The leaders of mature democracies simply don't last very long. And even if they did, strong bonds between leaders won't make companies play nice across borders, or bring one country's investment funds to the shores of another. For that, a much deeper friendship between peoples must be fostered, one that brings together CEOs and innovators.

For decades now, we've known exactly how to foster that kind of cultural affinity, and Britain has been almost pre-eminent at doing it. Foreign students are the backbone of international life. Britain isn't just blessed with prestigious universities — we have a tantalisingly free attitude (some might say expectation) around the adventures of young adulthood. Drink, drugs, sex and a side-order of music are cultural staples for the young, and since alcohol is legal from eighteen, a full range of nightlife is on tap (seven nights a week, in university towns). Students come here, have a great time, and remember Britain fondly. Some of them become decision-makers in their home economies, and are inclined to decide things in Britain's favour.

It is such a self-defeating shame that foreign students have been caught up in the anti-migration clampdown. They've been viewed in mildly harsh terms by the (overwhelmingly right-wing) legacy press for years, and now they're being warned not to overstay visas by the government. This is a small thing, but it adds to a negative narrative that diminishes the diplomatic benefits of bringing foreign students here in the first place.

We need to grow up.